seeking

My prayer these days is-

Please teach me to see that people are more important than their choices.
Grace upon grace upon grace...

~ ~ ~

Selflessness. Bravery.

These two themes flow through my thoughts often these days. It may have all started with yet another relentlessly addicting book (Divergent), but it has inspired some truly great channels of thought. (And, to my credit, I'm still savoring the first book, waiting a few weeks before I devour the next one. The anticipation is one of the best parts.)
Thoughts like: What ARE my fears, really? Maybe it's a sign that my life is too comfortable, if I can't easily identify them. Or - after marinating on this thought for a few days - I concluded that perhaps I really don't live my life in fear. Not that I have no fears, but that most days they're a healthy distance away from me. Maybe, maybe, I can strike that from the list of negative habits to break.

One of my Lenten meditations is to imagine each day that I have a great capacity for selflessness. I have realized that every day I am given what must be one hundred opportunities to be selfless, and how many of them do I take? And of the ones that I take, how often do I still hold bitterness in my heart?

But there is life still in these dry bones. And I am capable of grace.

So I remind myself that we can all use an extra helping of graciousness and understanding from our fellow humans... And maybe my feet will grow to be more deeply rooted in the God of grace.

it's good to be in Harrisonburg

Yesterday as I rode the city bus from my home to the stop near EMU, a rainbow blossomed out the window next to me, and by the time I got off it was a full arc across the eastern sky.

As I walked from the bus stop to the music building, I passed CJP and three of its staff standing outside looking upward. We shared short conversations (over the roar of cars passing), and that was nice.

As I walked down College Ave, I passed the Bible & Religion house and called a greeting to three more friendly faces of EMU, also standing outside looking eastward. Yes, I thought to myself, it is good to see familiar faces almost everywhere I go, and to be around people who take the time to notice beauty.

And today, I joined dozens of others to stitch bits of thread and love into comforters bound for MCC relief sites. I loved gathering together with a bunch of gray-haired ladies around this bright-patterned fabric that has already garnered many hours of work and meticulous attention, all for the sake of sending love to our sisters and brothers in other parts of the world. In the words of my wise grandmother, "I don't want to be one who is without compassion." She said this during a brief pause from her hard work today, but her hard work and deeply compassionate service took place not just today, but all year and in fact all her life.

So this week I am glad to be here and with the uncountable members of my many-layered community, which is defined not only by my families and workplaces and churches, but also by our common love for the world. May you also see this in your own community, wherever that may be, and give thanks for your place in a network of love.

looking for light

A Folk Tale About Worlds

A traveler came upon an old farmer hoeing in his field beside the road. Eager to rest his feet, the wanderer hailed the countryman, who seemed happy enough to straighten his back and talk for a moment.

“What sort of people live in the next town?” asked the stranger.

“What were the people like where you’ve come from?” replied the farmer, answering the question with another question.

“They were a bad lot. Troublemakers all, and lazy too. The most selfish people in the world, and not a one of them to be trusted. I’m happy to be leaving the scoundrels.”

“Is that so?” replied the old farmer. “Well, I’m afraid that you’ll find the same sort in the next town.”

Disappointed, the traveler trudged on his way, and the farmer returned to his work.

Some time later another stranger, coming from the same direction, hailed the farmer, and they stopped to talk. “What sort of people live in the next town?” he asked.

“What were the people like where you’ve come from?” replied the farmer once again.

“They were the best people in the world. Hard working, honest, and friendly. I’m sorry to be leaving them.”

“Fear not,” said the farmer. “You’ll find the same sort in the next town.”

20? Okay, 8.

Inspired by a friend and fellow blogger, I decided to make a list of 20 things to do in the next year.  in no particular order.  Unfortunately, I came up with the first 5 right away and then spent forever deciding on more, eventually giving up after number 8.  Oh well.

Here they are:

1. Read through the entire Bible.  I already started doing this with a wonderful friend/accountability partner, so let's hope we can stick with it.
2. Knit another hat.  I lost my blue one.  (This will hopefully happen in the next month, as colder weather calls for more hats.)
3. Run.  Another 5k maybe, or improve my mile time by at least 90 seconds.
4. Drink lots of tea....as the weather gets colder, this will be easy.
5. Also, make chai like Caleb does.  Or at least almost as good as Caleb's.
6. Visit Janelle in her new home in Gainesville, Florida
7. Christmas party.  Yep.  I brought it up in our house meeting last week, and this is definitely happening.
8. Celebrate our first wedding anniversary!

Thinking long-term is hard.  But hey, here are a few of my goals, and maybe this will inspire you to think about your own!

indeed

Wage peace with your breath
Breathe in firemen and rubble
breathe out whole buildings and flocks of red wing blackbirds.
Breathe in terrorists
and breathe out sleeping children and freshly mown fields.
Breathe in confusion and breathe out maple trees.
Breathe in the fallen and breathe out lifelong friendships intact.
Wage peace with your listening: hearing sirens, pray loud.
Remember your tools: flower seeds, clothes pins, clean rivers.
Make soup.
Play music, memorize the words for thank you in three languages.
Learn to knit, and make a hat.
Think of chaos as dancing raspberries,
imagine grief
as the outbreath of beauty
or the gesture of fish.
Swim for the other side.
Wage peace.

Never has the world seemed so fresh and precious:
Have a cup of tea and rejoice.
Act as if armistice has already arrived.
Celebrate today.

am I?

I am a hunter of beauty and I move slow and I keep the eyes wide, every fiber of every muscle sensing all wonder and this is the thrill of the hunt and I could be an expert on the life full, the beauty meat that lurks in every moment.

I hunger to taste life.

God.


~Ann Voskamp, One Thousand Gifts

an end-of-summer reflection

Though I'm mostly looking forward these days, I still have to take some time to look back.  This was written Friday morning, my last day at Highland for the summer, after what has become a traditional good-bye/prayer walk.

I went on my usual walk early this morning to say goodbye.  It was unbelievably clear, with the sun poking through the trees, the air crisp, and a shadow of moon lingering.  I thought into the cool morning air, Highland, you have a giant piece of my heart.

Whether true or not, this doesn't feel like the end of my time at Highland.  My time as a counselor is closing, that is for certain, and I'm fine with that.  But whether it's self-preservation, idiotic hope, or a real sign, my mind refuses to disallow the possibility of returning.  It's the wholehearted fun, enthusiasm for God and people, submerging in nature, living with arms wide open that I can't let go of.  This has become my summer home, in a way, and perhaps my spirit's truest home.

I know that the end of a summer is not the right time for me to make any decisions about the future.  In the words of our Fireside speaker this week, I'm telling God to be in the driver's seat.  It might be impossible or totally wrong.  But if it's right, God will lead us back here.  Maybe I will feel differently in a few months, about coming back.  But I will always love the things I love about working here, and I want so badly for them to be true year-round.  Right now I'm content to wait and see what the future holds.

Just before returning to my cabin, I stopped on the familiar wooden bridge that's just on the verge of being too steep.  As I watched the sparkling water tumbling down the creek, I thought,
You have lifted my heart into song, and I am thankful.

Call me anything: The name-changing crisis

After August 10, 2013, my full name will be Margaret Elaine Smeltzer Miller.

I've thought about this for a long time.  While some people have always known what they will do, the name change decision was, for me, a big deal.

Let me say this now:  My name does not make me who I am.

I am not less of a feminist for adding my fiance's last name to my own, nor would our marriage and future family have been less united had I decided not to add his name.

The question of whether or not I would change my name has been fraught with indecision (not the norm for me) and many bigger questions of identity, family, and experience.  "What's in a name" is, in fact, a lot.  As strange as it might sound, it actually has been a bit of a journey to arrive at this decision.  Along the way, I asked many others for their thoughts on the matter.  My grandmother, wise soul, told me that her own decision to change her name (over fifty years ago) resulted from the realization that either way, she would have a man's name:  her father's, or her husband's.  In that light, it made more sense to share a name with her husband than to share one with her father, given her family dynamics and life circumstances.  While my situation is different, the story caused me to ask what I might be saying or implying by keeping my name.  Is it simply a statement against the patriarchal tradition of women as property?  (Which, in my opinion, is a valid reason to keep one's name.)  Is it a strong connection to my family of origin?  Perhaps, but I've always felt most similar to my maternal grandmother's family.  Other than halfheartedly considering changing my last name to Brenneman, this line of thinking didn't get me far.

I also talked to my violin instructor, who legally took her husband's name but uses her name entirely in all her professional life.  In her case it makes sense, because she completed her master's degree in violin performance and travelled around Europe performing music before getting married.  I have nowhere near that degree of name recognition as a musician, so I won't use my name professionally for that reason.  However, I might use my name professionally simply because I have accumulated my own series of memories, accomplishments, and recognitions as Meg Smeltzer.  They may not be notable to the musical world as a whole, but they are significant to me.

Another way to say it is this:  I am not overly attached to my last name, but I have collected my twenty years' worth of identity under this name.  Having four names feels the most right, out of all the options, because it acknowledges my past identity while preparing for the future identity that is implicit in forming a new family.

I also want to refute some aspects of the name-changing conversation that have been stifling, unhelpful, or just plain wrong to me.  First of all, some of the pressure stems from a belief that a shared name somehow represents your family unity, or lack thereof.
A quote from Scrubs illustrates it with humor.
Carla:  "I've been thinking, I might not change my name after we get married.  It's part of my identity, you know?"
Turk:  "That's fine, honey, we'll just be one of those couples where the husband and wife don't love each other."
In all seriousness, though, I believe this mindset is actually very prevalent in some circles (in some cases, perhaps subconsciously).  And it just is not true.  My marriage will not be more or less loving, protected, and cherished because of our shared names.

Let me also say this:  I do not in any way look down upon or undermine other women's decisions regarding this topic.  What is right for me should not be interpreted as automatically right for anyone else (and vice versa).  Although, to be honest, I do sometimes feel a little twinge of disappointment when I see other women changing their names on facebook following their weddings.  I'll always give a little cheer for those who love their name enough to take a stand and keep it.

Recently, another point that came to light for me relates to the history of name-changing.  I have long understood that this tradition comes from a time when women were owned, dependent, subordinate.  The idea of dedicating to this tradition something so personal as my name was abhorrent.  However, I realized that all cultures have customs relating to names and how they evolve, and a big reason for this is simplicity.  We have to have a way to organize ourselves as a society, or else nobody would know who was related to whom.  So maybe, just maybe, I can allow myself to see my own name-addition as a natural way to be associated with my families, and less connected to a past assumption that my husband will hold the position as head of our household, controller of my time and resources, ultimate decision-maker, and divine liaison.

In summary, my plan for the future:  I'll add another name to my original three.  I'll call myself whatever I want.  You can call me whatever you want.  Just not Mrs. Daniel Miller.

source unknown

It was a chilly, overcast day when the horseman spied a little sparrow lying on its back in the middle of the road.  Reining in his mount, he looked down and inquired of the fragile creature,
"Why are you lying upside down like that?"
"I heard the heavens are going to fall today," replied the bird.
The horseman laughed.  "And I suppose your spindly legs can hold up the heavens?"
"One does what one can," said the little sparrow.

EMU Highlights: Adventures

One of my Worldview classes this semester involved a discussion about adventure, and I was inspired to make a list of my own adventures while at EMU.  Of course almost anything can be an adventure if you make it one, so the list could be much longer, but these are the ones that came to mind right away.

-Sleeping in Solidarity on the EMU hill (sometimes in near-freezing temperatures)
-Interrupting a Disney movie marathon to go dumpster diving in the hippie van before spring break
-Getting caught dumpster diving by four police cars
-camping at Byron & Deanna's farm over graduation weekend sophomore year (making popcorn over the fire, playing Truth, almost freezing during the night)
-Mountain Justice Spring Break (ecology tour, being part of a protest outside Bank of America)
-Camping at Byron & Deanna's farm again over grad weekend junior year (biking there and back, trying to cook a chicken over a fire)
-Being part of a make-it-up-ourselves triathlon with my family and some friends
-Bungee jumping in Western Cape
-Riding an ostrich in Oudtshoorn
-hiking & exploring in Lesotho (especially the waterfall hike)

There have been many more memorable moments, and there will be many more to come.  :)  What is your favorite adventure memory?

EMU Highlights: Experiments

I want to be the kind of person who consistently strives to make herself more aware of the world, and more engaged in conscious and generous living.  Since my first year at EMU, there have been many "experiments" I've done, usually in an attempt to change myself, sometimes in an attempt to change the people around me (often both).  Not all of them have been successful, but I've learned something from each one.

• Two weeks of eating only local foods (for first-year Ruling Ideas project)
• Spending 10 weeks not using shampoo

Supposedly, if you stop washing your hair, your hair eventually adjusts and you don't need shampoo anymore.  Mine definitely improved, but it never got totally clean without washing, so now I just wash it less frequently than I once did.

• Three weeks of eating only local foods
• Writing a letter every day for a month (self-titled the Letter Revolution)

For most of the letters I sent, I asked the recipient to pay it forward by writing a letter of their own.  I have no idea if they actually did, but hopefully the world got a little more snail-mail love.

• Wearing the same outfit for 5 days straight to see if people noticed

This was interesting because people actually did NOT notice.  Of course, it's totally possible that people in my classes noticed but didn't say anything.  But of my close friends and intentional community members, plus my now-fiance, all of them were surprised when I clued them in on Friday of that week.

• Wearing makeup every day for a week (failed: gave up after 2 days)

It turns out this isn't the sort of thing that people really comment on (at least to me).  It just made me feel weird and fake, so I stopped.

• Screen-free Sabbaths

For my own well-being, but they also allowed for extra roommie time, which was usually spent doing a puzzle on the living room floor.  And who can regret extra time spent doing something relaxing and non-essential with friends?

EMU Highlights: Classes

 As part of my reflecting on my time at EMU, I started making lists of notable aspects of the past four years.  So, to start, here are the classes that I currently consider to be the best ones I've taken.

1.  Social Psychology (Judy Mullet)
This is one of the few classes whose key concepts still come back to me regularly.  If you ever do anything with people, this class will be helpful to you.

2.  Creative Writing (Kirsten Beachy)
So much imagination, philosophizing, and hilarity contained in one class.  Words are a vessel, and this group of writers carried some interesting things.

3.  Worldview Seminar (Ken J. Nafziger)
We get to choose what we do each class period.  We get to talk about interesting ideas and experiences and worldviews in a group of honors students.  We get to laugh and be serious.  We get to wonder about life. 

4.  Native American Lit (Andrew White)
I've liked most of my lit classes, but this one was especially fascinating to me.  I loved the ideas immediately, and soaked in this new understanding of oppression and disadvantage.  The Native American philosophy seemed so right to me, and I was inspired by the emphasis on circularity and balance between all living things.  If I believed in reincarnation, I would say I was a Native American in a past life.

5.  Chamber Singers (Ken J. Nafziger)
A constant of my college experience, and yet different every semester.  I've learned to appreciate many, many styles of singing, and it feels like we've done a bit of almost everything.
Our concert last night was bittersweet, but absolutely beautiful, as always.  As we sang "No ways tired" (with the words "I don't believe he's brought me this far just to leave me"), I looked out at the audience, at so many faces with smiles and tears, and I felt tears beginning in my own eyes as I realized, We are all a part of each other.  This is my community, which I love.

Lesotho reflections: #3

October 1, 2012

I wish you could see what I see now.  I'm sitting in front of my two-room house in Malealea village.  It's been warm today, but it's late afternoon and the sun is just starting to cool.  On my right, there is a row of huge aloe plants separating our house from the neighbors'.  A group of three small children, one with a baby on her back, just ran by and we talked a little in Sesotho.  They laughed gleefully in their four-year-old voices; the youngest one jumped up and down when she told me her name.  At the end of the aloe row, I can just barely see the pump where we draw our water.  There are women gathered there with brightly colored plastic buckets to carry water.
I can see three buildings ahead of me, round brick homes with straw roofs.  Straight ahead there are trees in a row, but to the left the trees and bushes are lower and I can see the mountains.  They are massive, a jagged ridge against the blue expanse of sky without a single cloud.  The mountains here are not covered with trees; instead they are a gray-brown color from a distance, like rock chiseled into slopes and pyramids and dusted with a light cover of grass.
Everyplace with grass is covered with the same yellow flowers.  The soil is richly clay-colored, but dusty.  Sometimes you can see a faint sheen of dust on the air.  The entire village is connected by small dirt paths, so people often walk past, sometimes wrapped in a seana marena, the traditional blanket of the Basotho people.  I see a horse grazing, and I would only have to walk a few steps to see chickens, pigs, and dogs.  Any direction you look gives you a view of the mountains rising taller than anything, far above the plateau of our village.  When the sun sets behind the mountains, their ridges turn dark in a stunning clarity against the still-blue sky.  I wish you could see what I see.

Changing perspectives

Bad luck:  having a gigantic splinter rip itself into my left hand, right where it touches the neck of my violin, and then having to teach a violin lesson before I could take it out.
Optimism:  feeling thankful that it didn't happen five hours earlier, when I was about to walk onstage to perform.

Cynicism:  griping because of the new sign stating that students aren't allowed to use the microwave in the music office.
Humbling:  getting an email that there's now a new microwave for student use in the music lab.

I feel like my perspective is changing a lot these days, as I'm reflecting on the parts of my identity that will need to be relinquished in the next few months...and the new parts that will be added in the months after that.    I have no idea what some of these changes will be, but I know they're inevitable.  Ambiguity is not the most comfortable house to live in, but it's a house that everyone visits.  At least I'm not alone.

peacemaking day by day

Instead of loving what you think is peace, love other men and women and love God above all else.  Instead of hating all the people you think are war mongers, hate the appetites and disorders in your own soul which are the causes of war.
-Thomas Merton